


Comfort and Joy

by UseYourDelusion



Category: Superman/Batman (Comics)
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-09
Updated: 2013-01-09
Packaged: 2017-11-24 07:13:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/631815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UseYourDelusion/pseuds/UseYourDelusion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Christmas is coming to Gotham, and Joker is up to something again. Bruce Wayne is definitely not in the Christmas mood. Tim decides to help.</p>
<p>This was inspired by Lee Bermejo's wonderful graphic novel "Batman: Noel".</p>
            </blockquote>





	Comfort and Joy

Comfort and Joy

“Are you sure this is the right place?”, Tim asked.

He asked not because he actually doubted Bruce's investigative abilities, but simply because he wanted to have a conversation with him. For the last several days, Bruce had been incredibly tense, and, at this point, Tim was willing to try anything to cheer him up at least a little – up to and including jeopardising their stakeout. Besides, he was hoping that the conversation would help him forget how cold it was – right now he really wished his Robin costume had included a warm hat.

“It has to be the right place,” Bruce answered. “If it isn’t, then we’re back at square one”.

Of course, Bruce had every right to be tense. For the past two days, there were at least seven incidents involving poisoned firecrackers; none of them lethal so far, but that was probably because most of the incidents happened in the streets, so people were able to get away from the gas quickly. Bruce and Tim had already examined the firecrackers – the gas they contained was similar to the one Joker used. The formula was a bit different, but the effects were mostly the same. The police had confiscated most of the firecrackes from shops and warehouses, but they could not be sure that the danger was eliminated completely.

“Don’t you think it’s strange?” Tim asked.

“What’s strange?” Bruce asked in return, and for the first time Tim noticed that his voice was a bit different, a bit more nasal, a bit off in tone. Was Batman having a stuffy nose?

“This firecracker thing seems... small, you know. Not like him.”

“Maybe it’s a warning. Or maybe he’s just getting started”.

The problem about the firecrackers was that they were indistinguishable from the mass-produced crap that could be found in any Holiday section in any supermarket, and nobody in the stores where they were sold could remember anything particular about where they came from. They ordered the firecrackers from their usual distributors, none of which (Tim double-checked) were suspected in any kind of shady deals. Maybe somebody had slipped the poisoned firecrackes directly in the stores, but to know for sure, they had to analyze security footage, and Bruce insisted they should go here tonight instead. The chemical analysis showed that the firecrackers were made somewhere in Gotham, but it could not pinpoint where exactly. So now they were sitting here, freezing their asses off while watching one of many Gotham warehouses. They got the address from one of the biggest companies that sold firecrackes to the city’s department stores, and this was where most of them had been kept before they were confiscated.

Tim didn’t like this plan one bit - it seemed like a wild goose chase; so unlike Bruce, who seemed to have lost his ability to think clearly. Tim glanced at Bruce just in time to notice him shiver.

“Are you okay?”

“Fine.”

“You just shivered”.

“Well, it is cold.”

“The suit’s supposed to keep you warm.”

“Not this one. The warm one still needs to be worked on. Restricts mobility. I cannot afford that. Not tonight”.

Tim let out a sigh. Apparently, Bruce could not afford losing his mobility, but could afford catching a cold.

"Did you hear it?" Bruce was suddenly whispering.

Tim nodded. Something was approaching the warehouse from the north. Judging by the sound, it was a large truck. It pulled to the gate, which slowly opened as it approached, then disappeared inside.

Tim heard Bruce cursing.

"Let's go," Bruce ordered. "You keep an eye on the truck. I'll check the warehouse from the inside".

Tim watched Bruce shooting the grappling gun and swinging to the roof of the warehouse. He knew he had to move to another rooftop that would provide easier access to the truck in case it tried to get away. But right now all he wanted to be closer to Bruce. That, however, would mean disobeying his direct orders, something Bruce really hated. Tim did what he had to.

After he landed on the roof, he hid in the shadows, watching Bruce, who was checking things out through a skylight. Once he saw him crashing through the glass, however, he quickly jumped to the warehouse roof instead of staying where he was supposed to, and moved to another skylight.

It looked like Batman had an upper hand in the fight. Tim counted at least five thugs, but they were no match to Bruce in combat. In a quick move, he dispatched one thug with an uppercut right to the solar plexus, then turned on his heels to the left and sent another one flying to the wall with a hook to the jaw. The third one was coming at Bruce with a jack-knife, but right when he tried to stab him, Bruce evaded the blade, then grabbed his arm, and less than in a second there was a sound of bone cracking and a terrible scream of pain.

Suddenly, Tim noticed some shadows moving in the background. More thugs, probably, he thought, but it still was dangerous. Bruce was now fighting three of them, and the first two had already managed to land some punches on him. Tim had already made that split-second decision to burst in and help Bruce, when he heard metallic rattling and the sound of a running motor, remembered about the truck, and practically bolted to the edge of the roof. He saw the truck moving, then felt that slight pricking of fear. There was no time to think.

He remembered Dick - swinging fearlessly from one rooftop to another, making it all look so damn easy - and jumped down. He landed on the hood with a large thump, and the driver stopped, almost making Tim lose his balance and fall. Okay, that was not perfect, but it worked. Tim smashed his Bo staff through the windshield, trying to get to the driver before he could escape...

...then there was a loud boom, and Tim felt waves of heat and force of blast knocking him to the ground. He saw strangely colored flame (not red and orange, but bright greenish yellow) slowly devouring the warehouse, and clouds of toxic smoke finding their way out of the building. The driver was getting away, but right now, he was not a priority - there was no time to think and not a lot of time to act either. Tim put on the rebreather and ran into the warehouse.

***

As it turned out, pulling unconscious Batman out of the burning warehouse full of toxic chemicals and dragging him to the Batmobile was not an easy task. Tim checked Bruce's pulse, his breath, took one of the syringes out of the utility belt and gave him a shot of anti-toxin to Joker's poison. He didn't know whom he hated more at this moment: himself for disobeying the orders or Bruce for being so reckless and not acting like himself. The warehouse had been Joker's trap, and they fell right into it. Admitting defeat was not easy. Well, at least Bruce was still alive, he thought as he laid him onto passenger's seat.

***

When Bruce Wayne came to, all he could feel was an intense burning sensation in his throat and his chest. His skin was itching and his eyes were aching because of bright light right above his head. He started coughing and simply couldn't stop.

"Hello, Bruce," the voice was kind, warm, almost motherly.

“Dr.Thompkins,” he managed to say in between coughs.

He was lying in the exam room,

“Tim here’s been telling me you’ve been acting really recklessly. Now, stay still while I take the x-ray. Well, let's see," Dr.Thompkins looked at the monitor "Cracks in ribs... Could have been worse, I guess... And this is...oh. Oh."

"What is it, doctor?"

"Your lungs. Breathing in that poisoned gas has resulted in tissue damage. From what I see on the X-ray, it's pretty serious. You should be more careful during your nighttime adventures."

She rose from her desk and went to the cabinet on the opposite wall, took something from the shelf and gave it to Bruce.

"Take this three times a day. It should stop the inflammation process. You can dress now"

"Thank you, Doctor Thompkins." Bruce got up and proceeded to put his suit on. It got him more time than usual: his hands were shaking and his head was spinning.

"Tim is waiting for you in the car," Dr.Thompkins said as he was putting on the mask.

“So... you’re not going to tell me to stop being Batman for a while, doctor?”

“What good would that do? We both know you’re not going to follow this advice.”


End file.
